memento of the sixty-mile feat on the raw shoulders of the game little devil, who rejoices in such a perfect fiend of a master! Now be cool; don't swear, don't collar him, don't lick him, but draw him out gently. "Ever hear of Mr. Martin and his act, sir?" "Martin-Martin-act! O, you mean the humanity man! Yes, O yes, to be sure I have." "The humanity man, exactly. Ever come in contact with Mr. Thomas and the Society?" "Can't say I have." "Time you had, I think. Ever hear of Mr. Bencraft and his Hames?" No, he had not; and that saves him. Pity his ignorance, and forgive him. Remit the fine of three-fourths of his salary, with the imprisonment for five-sixths of his natural life, on these conditionsthat he buys two pairs of the "Patent Hames" on the spot, and starts with a pair on the withers of the " game little devil" to-morrow morning; that he speaks of them as he finds them, and uses them and theirs as they use him and his, so long as he shall hold the whip and ribbons, a Perryian pen, or a place of trust. We say the same to one and all, and abide by every word that we have said. Mr. Bencraft's object and success have been equally excellent; his hames have been subjected to the severest tests, and found to be all they assumed to be-a perfect guard against that violation of the laws of humanity, completeness, and general appearance we have alluded to; and in strongly recommending them we feel convinced we are directing a benefit to man and horse which use and experience alone can sufficiently appreciate. LITERATURE.. HILLINGDON HALL; OR, THE COCKNEY SQUIRE. Colburn.— Until within the last few years, sporting literature, generally speaking, has not stood very high in the public estimation-a fact not arising so much from the badness or sterility of the subject, as a want of inclination on the part of those who should, and a want of ability or necessary experience in those who would try their hands upon it. Perhaps in the whole range of the novelist, from that most enticing hero, his most gracious mutton-eating Majesty Charles the Second, down to the funniest merry-and-wise Sancho that ever brushed a boot, there is not a character that would tell better than a really well-handled sportsman. But "there's the rub!" How many attempts have been made, and how very few well-handled! 66 great wizard of the north," Sir Walter Scott-a bit of a sportsman himself-was fond of sketching one, but he seldom made the characteristic very prominent, and, above all, laid his scene too far back for a brother of the craft to test the fidelity of his handiwork. Maxwell, again, one of the very pleasantest writers of the day on certain subjects, though he may dish up a fishing scene in good style, or spin a truly workman-like The yarn on the mountain and the moor, makes awful stuff of it when he ventures to touch on the horse or the hound, or get up his sporting reading for a steeple-chase. His countryman, too, the all-humorous Harry Lorrequer, though so fond of putting his heroes on horseback, is much more at home in the battle than the hunting field, and can make out the preliminaries for a review with much more exactness than he can the line for a scurry across country; while a host of others, with "Young England" at their head, have marred really clever productions by their ridiculous caricatures of sporting life. There are inconsistencies, terms misapplied, rules broken through, and other things of the kind, trifling though they be to the general reader, that proclaim to the thorough sportsman, as plain as a speakingtrumpet, his author is not on the right tack. "Don't know who the gentleman is, but he ain't much business in our shire."* Now, here we have a work, professing by its title to treat of the life and habits of a country gentleman-or rather, to suit our author's book, a very fine imitation of one-a sportsman, a magistrate, and a great man for farming: the ground, like the hero, perhaps not altogether new, but the handling such as to leave the reader in a pleasing compound of admiration and astonishment. The capital descriptions of life in the rurals in all its varieties, from the horribly formal, supposed to be friendly dinner at Donkeyton Castle, where not a soul in the room (including the host), save the Cockney Squire, can make himself at home, down to the agricultural spread, where no man makes an observation till he has made a dinner. Then the different characters high and low, so true to nature, that we feel satisfied every one might be underlined with a bona fide patronymic, to be supplied by the Peerage or "The Farmer's Magazine. The great gun of the county, amongst others, the Duke of Donkeyton himself, who is so very affable, so monstrous glad to see his neighbours, and so monstrous glad to get rid of them-who knows one old friend because he's got a bull, and another because he's got whiskers under his chin-and who has always the same cut-and-dried sympathy laid on for the fate of an only daughter or that of a favourite draught-horse. His son, again, the gallant Marquis, "a pretty gal spoiled in the making," who kisses his mamma, and gets himself into a hobble or two by trying the same sort of thing on with any home-made beauty who will give him the chance. The swell steward, with his taste for claret and Wellingtons, and Mark Heavytail, the old tenant at the Pet Farm, who has always so many things to complain of; and-alas! for the Squire-a voice two or three sizes too big for his body to complain in. All this fidelity to place and person, seasoned with a vein of humorous satire, keen without being malicious, and every chapter dashed off with an ease and spirit highly agreeable to read over, but monstrous difficult to imitate. A novel, in fact, that shows everywhere and anywhere how thoroughly conversant its author is with life, and how great his power in bringing into play what he has seen-a work that places him still nearer that proud elevation the Quarterly a year or two since assured him was attainable, and the realization of which needs but a continu *Almost the only one we recollect brought to the fore, and dashed off with something very like the hand and heart of a sportsman, is Dick Turpin; and it is needless to observe how conducive the hard-riding highwayman was to the popularity of "Rookwood." Why don't Mr. Ainsworth try another cast over the same country? ance in that course he has already travelled with so much deserved success. A word ere we conclude a too brief notice. This, we believe, is the third appearance of Mr. Jorrocks, and, from what we have seen, full justice has been done him. There, however, appears a half inclination to start him again; but here we think the author would not be doing justice to himself. For a magazine paper of half a sheet or so, Jorrocks, in his "Jaunt and Jollity" style, may still be welcome; but we confess we should have our fears to see him figuring as the hero of another three volumes. Falstaff, the immortal Jack, stops at the third, and Sam Weller made but a poor thing of even a second appearance. Mr. Surtees, like Lord Byron, on commencing Don Juan, "wants but a hero" to make himself still farther famous. A DEFENCE OF THE GAME LAWS; IN REPLY TO THE ASSAILANTS. By the Honourable Grantley F. Berkeley, M.P. London: Longman and Co., 1845. This pamphlet has created a considerable outpouring of ink and spleen since its appearance, and has brought the strength of the genus irritabile about the author's ears. The matter to which it addresses itself was stated at length by Mr. Berkeley some three or four years ago, in the Sporting Review; indeed, this brochure may appropriately be called the ghost of the hon. gentleman's paper s on the preservation of game" in that periodical, for although not altogether identical as to the letter, it is the same in spirit. Most writers are distinguished for some peculiarity of style Hic amat obscurum: volet hic sub luce videri. In the latter class the member for West Gloucestershire ranks first of the foremost. No one can object to him, that he is not in earnest when he takes anything in hand. It must be confessed that when the thesis of this "Defence" came out in the work aforesaid, we had our fears that, admirable as its theories were, and excellent its philsophy, some difficulty would exist as to carrying the system out, on the score of prejudice and some natural difficulties that seemed to threaten its practicability. Though the vigour with which the plan for attacking and discomfiting poachers was set forth acted like the blast of a trumpet on our caution, it was impossible to lose sight of the probability that in such encounters the conservative party might occasionally find itself in the category of the hero who caught the Tartar. But this was because the author was then dealing with the infancy of his project: we now have it in its maturity, and see how he disposes of such doubts, and demonstrates the means by which all possibility of failure is provided for. A Tartaric poacher having been captured, and affairs beginning to assume a truthsome aspect-we find the whole thing managed (literally) by a coup de main-he was at once accommodated with the darbies. Now, no man of half measures would have thought of venturing on this step: not only do we see that it was taken, but are shown how it was the most kind and considerate thing that could possibly have been done. “I was, myself, once asked by a magistrate, why handcuffs were put on the poor man if he came quietly? I replied that it was done on the score of humanity, to insure his coming quietly, and to render it impossible for his malevolence to hurry him into any attempt which might lead to the necessity for a broken head. He was due to justice, if possible, unharmed and without a scratch. The handcuffs were on, not because I feared that he would hurt me, but simply because he should not induce me to hurt him." Is there any so "base and brutal" as to cavil with such philanthropy? When this question of removing the "tabooism" of preserves comes before the legislature, will any patriot dare to support it? Let him read this "I hold the man, or set of men, who would stir a step to prevent or risk the residence of the country gentleman on his lands, to be the declared and bitter foe to the interests of the poor. By the talked-of abolition of the game laws, you risk all this: his personal residence is retained upon his acres by a combination of country pursuits and pleasures." To be sure it is. We wonder what the Times would be at. Would it out-Louis Louis, and have every union serve up a course of game every day in the week during the season? Once upon a time, a poacher was put into the village stocks, and having remained stuck in them during a heavy snow storm, when the snow was up to his chin, he sent a request to the parish beadle to let him out before he was quite finished off. The functionary came, with an umbrella over his head, and thus addressed him, "What would you have, ungrateful criminalthankless felon? I suppose you want rose-water and a band of music." Does the Times imagine that battue shooting was created for the use of the lower orders? We had written thus far, and opened a glorious volume on cookery and all sorts of savoury matters, but postpone its notice for the present. The ingratitude of the press, in its strictures on the pamphlet of Mr. Berkeley, warns us for the present to refrain from all dressing of game or game laws. THE NEW SPORTING ALMANACK. Rudolph Ackermann.-Of all the almanacks we have hitherto come across, and verily this is the age of suchlike chronicles and calendars, we have noticed none which, either in outward appearance or real merit, can surpass that now established little clipper THE NEW SPORTING; combining, as it does, the fun of the facetious, with the useful knowledge of the more serious species; the hints and remembrancers so necessary to the practical man, with the anecdote and information so welcome to the enthusiast. The Eclipse Sporting Gallery has long been proverbial for the elegant and workmanlike style, the careful finish and correct detail of its many illustrations of flood and field, recommendations which are far from wanting on the present occasion; Hancock for racing, Alken for hunting, and Wildrake for all sorts of subjects, both foreign and domestic; while the engravings are joined to letter-press which ranks the efforts of the pen in every way worthy those of its companion, the pencil. Among other articles particularly engaging the attention, is one on lion hunting (with a sketch by the Editor), in which the writer, after giving us his day's experience, winds up with his very firm, but very startling opinion, that the lion, instead of the most courageous, is about the most cowardly of all the beasts of the field! An assertion we must say we should like to see further pursued and collated, previous to "bolting entire," a feat we confess to not having accomplished at present. As a whole, however, we can commend the "New Sporting Almanack" as built and brought out on the same plan as its two immediate predecessors-sufficient_assurance in itself to all who have as yet patronized it-a course that every other sportsman who requires an almanack (and who doesn't?) should hasten to follow. THE FINE ARTS. BELL AND HARRY.-A FAVOURITE POINTER and Setter. This is a full-sized, well-finished engraving, from a very good sketch by Spalding. To the owner, and such as have witnessed the performances by "flood and field" of this brace of first favourites, it is no doubt a jewel beyond a price; while the spirited attitudes and expression of the dogs-that of the latter especially-recommend it to all who incline to the stubble, moor, or marsh, as worthy of a place in the drawing-room portfolio, or "the study's," alias "smoky's" side. The plate, engraved by Stubbs, has been brought out by Mr. Ford, of the Strand. PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS OF THE METROPOLIS. "Such was the popular favour which they engaged, that in a time of scarcity, when all strangers were banished from the city, the merit of contributing to the public pleasures exempted them (the pantomime personages) from a law which was strictly executed against the professors of the liberal arts." GIBBON'S ROMAN EMPIRE. The new year has accomplished its first cycle; one of jubilee to man and child. The pantomimes are great things, in their way, to Londoners. As for country folks, just ask one of them if they would not willingly journey to see them, though their metropolis were pitched in the plains of Khaurism, instead of planted amid railways. The taste for a good pantomime is a classic taste. We have Grecian authority for cultivating it; and the Romans, who took later to it, were even more zealously bent upon encouraging the professors of the mime, by shielding them from any possible let or molestation in the exercise of their calling. Perchance it is the fashion now-a-days to speak of these grand spectacles with contempt. But, for all that, we doubt whether such irreverence reaches further than the tongue. Look at that father and child at Drury Lane, for instance. They have both, by an inconceivable effort of impatient patience, sat out the dulness of "The Daughter of St. Mark:" "The thing is dull; it was at first Dull, O, so dull, so very dull! Dull, beyond all description dull.” But here is the pantomime Robinson Crusoe ! And the very mo |